


The Kistune's Tale

by theauthorish



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Familiars, Kitsune, M/M, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: A long time ago, somewhere in Japan, there was a market. Held from midnight to just before dawn, it was a place of magic and mystery, where the inhuman-- the fae, the demon, the spiritual-- all came together to trade and bargain and barter.This is the story of how one human found it, one night, and how one kitsune, in his attempts to save the mortal from a gruesome fate, found himself drawn to the man instead.It is not a love story. Not quite. But it is close.Perhaps, it could be considered the prologue to one.Do you want to hear it?





	The Kistune's Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eelora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eelora/gifts).



> This is my piece for the fantasy haikyuu exchange 2018!!!! To my giftee, I hope you like it!
> 
> Update!!! This piece has inspired a series! The series will be comprised of stories set in the same world, told in the same style, but with different pairings. There will be art too!
> 
> But! We want to be sure people are interested, so please check out this tumblr post:
> 
> https://theauthorish.tumblr.com/post/179888925531/a-zine
> 
> And help us spread the word! Thank you!

Once upon a time, when magic and spirits still roamed the world freely, there was a village. The village’s name has been lost to time, as has its location. Some say it was by the coast. Others say it lay in the very heart of Japan. Yet, others claim it was settled high atop a mountain peak. They have called it many things-- most commonly Kistunetsuki, after the fox possessions that happened so often there, or Mononoke no Hoseki, for all the yokai and ghosts drawn there. 

 

But those details are unimportant, really. Name, place… neither matters to the tale you are about to hear.

 

No. What matters is that in this village, there was a market known as the Penumbra Bazaar-- like the faintest shadow of a shadow, it was a wispy in-between place very few could find, much less enter. It was a place of sorcery, mysteries--  _ other _ . There, fae and demons and spirits mingled, traded dreams and potions for spells and wishes. There, it was not uncommon to see an elf haggling with a maneki-neko over a vial of luck, or a kappa bargaining with a dryad for fruit off his tree.

 

It is there that our story begins, on the night of the autumn equinox.

 

Now you must understand, autumn is the time of death, as nature sheds its blossoms in preparation for winter, and in the fields, crops wilt and wither. It is in this season that the boundaries between worlds are weakest-- and so it happened that a mortal wandered into the bazaar when he shouldn't even have been able to find the door; and it is this human who set our story into motion.

 

But now, let us get to the real tale, shall we?

 

It was midnight, and the fair was just beginning to come to life: creatures setting up their wares, others filing in to browse… it was early, by the market’s standards. Things only really hit full swing around two to three-- the witching hour.

 

Even so, a kitsune by the name of Yaku Morisuke was already at the market, perched on a crate of blessed gems. “Remind me why my presence was necessary, Kuroo?”

 

The familiar-- a cat-shifter known as Kuroo Tetsurou-- frowned at him. “You were supposed to help me unpack my merchandise. Instead you’ve chosen to lounge about in fox form and impede my progress further.” Kuroo bent to pick up the crate, and Morisuke nimbly hopped off, tails (possibly intentionally) tickling Kuroo’s nose as he passed.

 

“I never agreed to that arrangement,” Morisuke sniffed, hopping up onto the free space of the stall’s counter pointedly.

 

“Oh come now, Yakkun. Must you lay down where I'm meant to place these stones?” Kuroo complained.

 

Morisuke only flicked his tails in dismissal, not even deigning to grant Kuroo a response. Kuroo grumbled something about it being a shame he couldn't bring out his claws in human form, which Morisuke ignored. He liked the market fine enough, but he had been planning to hunt a little before coming tonight. Since that plan was out the window, he would at least make a nuisance of himself.

 

Kuroo sighed, picking up the fox and dropping him on the floor before he could get scratched for the offense. “Why don't you pester some human instead, Yakkun? Perhaps I shouldn't have asked you here after all.”

 

“Mayhap, yes,” Morisuke huffed, nipping at Kuroo’s ankles in retaliation. “And anyway, I rather find it boring messing with mortals. They're too easy to mislead, and too often lash out in their fear.”

 

Kuroo glared at him, but eventually, the glower faded into something far more worrisome-- a languid, taunting smirk that Morisuke knew well, one that nearly always promised trouble to follow.

 

“What,” Morisuke sighed, knowing that whether he played along or not, Kuroo would speak his mind. It would simply be more infuriating if Morisuke resisted.

 

“You aren't saying that because you are afraid?” Kuroo mocked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Morisuke snorted. “Me? What, you think I’ve lived and learned these past three hundred years and still somehow managed to be scared of mortals?” As if. Morisuke had spoken true, earlier-- humans were easily spooked and even easier fooled. If anyone held fear between them, it was the mortals, not the kitsune.

 

“Yet you still take trouble to avoid their paths when you're certainly powerful enough to hold a glamour or to knock them aside like flies,” Kuroo mused.

 

This was a trap, somehow. Kuroo was goading him, for what, Morisuke didn't know. But Morisuke could hardly let such an insult pass by. 

 

“I may be wary, Kuroo, but caution and terror are different beasts, though similar.” Morisuke’s eyes flashed in warning. “And I would watch that tongue of yours, were I you. Another barb and we will need to rewrite the saying.”

 

Kuroo only grinned wider, baring his sharp fangs. “Ah, Yakkun, so temperamental.” He clicked his tongue. “And you may threaten, but you and I both know you are too fond and soft to maim me so.”

 

Morisuke narrowed his eyes, tails swishing angrily back and forth. He growled, growing larger as he did, until he stood as tall as an ordinary wolf. “Is that so, Kuroo Tetsurou? Shall we test that theory?”

 

Kuroo raised his hands in surrender, eyes wide. “Now, now, Yakkun, I was only teasing. You need not bare your fangs at me.”

 

“And yet, I feel compelled to,” Morisuke rumbled. Despite his words, he shrank back down to his normal size.

 

Kuroo surreptitiously let out a breath, and Morisuke fought back a smirk of his own-- good, the familiar ought to know his place. Kuroo was a friend, and an equal, but in terms of sheer power, it was Morisuke who had the upper hand; and Morisuke, while lenient, did not take kindly to any rash judgments on himself.

 

“All I'm saying, Yakkun, is that it's healthy for us magical beings to interact with the ordinary ones every now and then. We rely on them, even if we pretend we don't, and the reverse is true as well,” Kuroo said, and if it was wise, Morisuke pretended not to think so. “It would do you some good to meet one soon, remember what they're really like.”

 

“Very well,” Morisuke acquiesced. “But it will have to wait. No mortal is ever out and about on market evenings--”

 

Morisuke froze. There was a scent in the air, a strain in the magic around them-- a human had entered, though very few would notice; Morisuke himself only knew because he had lived so long. Many of the others here were young, still, fresh blood come in place of their mentors, or for convenience. The older ones, like Morisuke, usually preferred to earn their own supplies and such whenever possible. And they certainly never bothered to arrive so early as this, when half the stalls were not even opened for business.

 

“Yakkun?”

 

“A human,” Morisuke hissed. “What is one doing here? How has he found this place?”

 

Kuroo’s brows vanished into his hairline. “A mortal? Here?”

 

“Yes!” Morisuke hopped easily onto a stack of empty barrels belonging to the next stall over, and then from there onto the little canopy of Kuroo’s stall, using the new vantage point to look for…

 

There.

 

A silver head of hair held high, tall enough to almost tower above the stalls; eyes that flicked curiously here and there, lanky limbs reaching out as if to touch each thing and being that drew his attention, only to hover hesitantly and drop. Around him, visible to only a select few, was a golden halo of power.

 

He wasn't so foolish as to touch, at least, Morisuke thought, though his presence alone was an issue. A human could get eaten alive in this market-- there were too many rules, too many games, and too much for a mortal to lose.

 

Morisuke jumped back down to the earth.

 

“Did you see him?” Kuroo was watching him inquiringly, wondering, no doubt, what it was that Morisuke had seen.

 

“Easily.” Morisuke sighed. “He gives off a powerful aura, though it looks unrefined.”

 

Understanding dawned on Kuroo, then. “He has a high magical affinity. He simply hasn't harnessed it-- dangerous stuff, unharnessed magic. Hungry for release,” he said.

 

Morisuke huffed. “Indeed. And in its quest, it's drawn him here. Like attracts like, is that not so?” As he spoke, Morisuke shifted forms. In a few moments, where a three-tailed fox had stood, there was now a young lady, with round brown eyes lined with kohl, lips rouged and cheeks flushed. She had delicate cheekbones and a high forehead, with thin, elegantly arched brows and a soft pout of a mouth. Her light brown hair was pinned back in a taka shimada updo, adorned by golden maple leaf kanzashi that matched her kimono, whose fabric sported a soft hand painted scene of a forest in the autumn.

 

She was, quite simply, lovely to behold.

 

Kuroo blinked. “Ah, Yakkun, you never told me you were so beautiful in your human form,” he commented, eyes trailing down the line of Morisuke’s body and back up to his face.

 

“Quiet yourself, Kuroo,” Morisuke said, voice now musical and gentle as the mask he wore. Kuroo, surprisingly, obeyed. “You insisted I trick a mortal, and that I shall do. I will have him leave this place, and in exchange I will take a memory. Will that suffice?”

 

Kuroo nodded, the grin returned in full force. “Oh, certainly, my lady.”

 

“Then I shall be back shortly.” Morisuke glided through the market’s wide lanes, taking care to inject a certain type of soft grace into his movements. With his magic, he reached for the human’s energy and  _ tugged _ , drawing his attention.

 

The man turned, and on seeing Morisuke, he seemed awestruck (and rightly so). Morisuke smiled at him, lifting one hand in a dainty wave. 

 

The man beamed back.

 

“May I help you, sir?” Morisuke asked, batting his lashes up at him. Up close, he really was  _ tall _ wasn't he? “You seem rather lost.”

 

“Ah… yes, it appears I am!” laughed the man. “What is this place?”

 

He did not even know of the market? His magic must be strong, to lead him somewhere he wasn't seeking. Morisuke feared all the more for this man’s fate, here, but he let none of it show in his face or comportment. Instead, he maintained his smile and said, “The Penumbra Bazaar, if it pleases you, sir.”

 

“Oh. What's that?” This question was accompanied by a tilt of his head, like he were a lost puppy.

 

Goodness. Who let this man out into the world on his own? Especially in an area such as this, so steeped in old spells and full of hidden doorways? 

 

“A market for the magical, sir. Were you searching for something in particular? Mayhap I can help you find it yet, while it is early,” Morisuke said, lacing his words with an enchantment to make the man more agreeable. It should work. It had never failed Morisuke before. 

 

The man blinked, eyes glazing over for a second as Morisuke’s power took hold of him-- and then they cleared. “Who are you?” he asked, voice quiet in something like reverence.

 

Startled at how easily his persuasion was shaken, Morisuke’s jaw dropped ever so slightly before the kitsune caught himself, lips curling once more in a smile. He ducked his head as if bashful, though his mind was spinning at the raw talent of this man, to so quickly free himself of a kitsune’s rapture, and unwittingly at that. “No one important, sir. A mere servant to the market and the magic that resides here,” he demurred.

 

The man didn't even pause to consider that. “Won't you tell me your name, miss? I would give you mine in exchange,” he promised, and--

 

Oh, were Morisuke younger, he would have eagerly taken that offer, told him an alias and harvested his Name, wrapped the man around his finger until he bored of him.

 

But Morisuke was no longer that fox. He was wiser now, and more sympathetic to mortals than he liked to admit. So instead he said, “I could not do that, sir. Names have power, and I am not meant to wield such.” He reached out to take the man’s hands in his own, held them loosely in his grasp. His eyes, when they met the man’s, were wide and honey gold in the lantern light, imploring. “Heed my warning, sir, and do not offer others your name as you have offered it to me-- others here are not so discerning of their deeds, and would gladly use it to bind you to them until the end of time.”

 

“And should they ask?”

 

“Do not answer. Tell a lie. It doesn't matter, as long as you give them nothing, take nothing but that which you pay for. Your name is not something that can be owed.” Morisuke would rather not give this advice. He’d rather usher the man away, play to his desires and leave him dazed where he would soon find his way home, once the fog left his mind. He would rather the man have no occasion, no need for instructions such as these-- but it was not something he could control. This man somehow slipped from Morisuke’s thrall as Morisuke slipped through the dreams of mortals: like water through fingers, like sand through an hourglass. He would need to coax him out of the market slowly, on only his natural charm.

 

“I see. Might I have something to call you by, at least?” And this was said with such earnestness that Morisuke could hardly help but be endeared.

 

“Very well,” he sighed, resigned. “You may call me Kaede, for the maple leaves in my hair,” Morisuke told him, releasing his grip on the man’s hands.

 

The man’s grin at this was almost blinding. What a fool, this mortal was, satisfied so simply. “And you may call me Ginraion!” he replied, enthusiastic.

 

Morisuke huffed a laugh at the ridiculous name. “How about… I call you Gin,” Morisuke suggested.

 

“Gin… I like it!”

 

“Very well, Gin-san,” Morisuke said, noting that somehow, the man’s smile grew infinitesimally wider at the sound of his moniker from Morisuke’s lips. “Might you tell me what it is you are looking to find? The market will fill up soon, and it is better for you to leave before it does.”

 

“Ah…” The man-- Gin-- scanned the market stalls, gaze flitting from merchant to merchant. “I wasn't looking for anything. But--”

 

“No buts,” Morisuke cut in. “If you were not searching for something, you ought not to purchase anything. This is not that sort of market-- it is unsafe to attempt to do so here.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

Morisuke reached out to lace the fingers of one hand with those of Gin’s, lips curled in a delicate smile. “Come, Gin-san. I will guide you back to whence you came.”

 

Kitsune led mortal through the alleys of the bazaar, through to the very edge-- and then he spun them around. Where the market should have been, there stretched before them a wooded area, tree boughs just beginning to be tickled by the colors of the dawn. (The travel, it seemed, had taken longer than it should have-- Gin’s magic interfering, no doubt). Gin gasped. “How…?”

 

Morisuke winked at him. “Magic,” he whispered, giggling ever so slightly. Now, he need only weave a contract, a memory as payment for the passage-- or at the very least, for the release; Morisuke retained his hold on Gin’s hand, after all, though he had already showed him the exit. 

 

“Lady Kaede, thank you. I do not know how I came to the market, nor how I would have left it were it not for you,” Gin said, bowing low over their joined hands. Ah, for all his naiveté, this man could be smooth as well. It was truly a shame; such a lovely young face-- cat-like, glowing eyes the green of spring, hair like moonlight captured by still water (a reflection of a reflection, a powerful thing like the fae themselves), high cheekbones and a strong, angular jaw… if Morisuke were a few decades younger, he would have loved to lie with this one. But no, Morisuke would not keep him. He was too unpredictable, with his aura uncontained and so strong, and besides, what would Kuroo say to him, after Morisuke’s refusal to even cross a mortal’s path earlier today? To have given in to this charade at all was enough a blow to his pride.

 

Morisuke glanced away as if shy, calling a blush to his cheeks. He raised his free hand as if to shield the color in his face from the other. “It is but a trifle, sir,” he murmured. 

 

“Would I pay you, had I the means, but…”

 

“I need no material wealth,” Morisuke interrupted. He phrased his next words carefully, so that it sounded like a mere comfort, as opposed to the binding commitment it would really be. “A lovely memory such as this will do.” He squeezed the fingers in his grasp, and felt a press in return-- an agreement, nonverbal though it was. It was enough.

 

The spell took hold, winding through their physical connection and stealing away into Gin’s mind. It wrapped itself around an image of laughter, of a day by the stream chasing after someone… the memory faded, and Morisuke freed Gin from his grasp. “Go,” he said. “You will be able to make your way home now.”

 

Gin began to stride away. And then he froze. “Might I find you here again tomorrow evening?” he called, turning to look at Morisuke over his shoulder.

 

“Perhaps,” Morisuke hedged. Though he could certainly lie, it was habit by now to take care of his words, lest he accidentally bind himself to a contract-- though that hadn't happened since his first fifty years of life. 

 

“Then I shall return in the hope of meeting you once more,” Gin said.

 

“Wait!” Without thinking, Morisuke dashed forward, snatching up Gin’s wrist. Physical bond secured. Now he needed a contract. “Dream of me, instead. It is dangerous to return, especially if I am unable to come to your aid once more.”

 

“Should I dream of you,” Gin started, though his gaze shifted to the ground and his cheeks filled with color in readiness for his next words, it seemed, “I would count myself very blessed indeed. Good night, my lady.”

 

Morisuke felt his own face warm, though this time not by choice. He relinquished Gin. “Good night, Gin-san.” He bowed low, and then vanished behind the trunk of-- fittingly-- a maple tree.

 

The seed of the spell was planted. Tonight, Morisuke would have no trouble searching out Gin’s dreams and walking there, and hopefully he would be able to convince him to stay away from the market.

 

/////

 

Morisuke did not bother going back to Kuroo’s booth. Instead, he waited until he was certain Gin had left, and then he reverted once more to his fox form and went home-- dream walking required a very precise state of sleep, and for Morisuke, that did not come easily (though once he was in it, he was more than adept at moving through dreams).

 

It did not take quite as long as Morisuke had thought it would, and soon enough, Morisuke was wandering through the dreamscape, searching for Gin-- his magic called to him like a homing beacon, and he followed blindly, watching the fantasies around him swirl and change from person to person, moment to moment, with an idle interest. How strange, humans’ minds were. Some of these ideas were far odder than anything in the fae and demon realms.

 

Eventually, Morisuke found himself in a little cottage, his magic humming around him happily-- this was Gin’s dream, it seemed. “How quaint…” Morisuke mumbled, changing forms so that he was once more Kaede. “Gin? Are you here?” he called out.

 

In a moment, Gin stuck his head through the doorway, wide-eyed with surprise and elation. “Kaede! How are you here?”

 

“That, I cannot tell you,” Morisuke said, lips quirking into a smile. “But I have come to say…” Morisuke let his smile fall away, let his eyes slide to the side. “You mustn’t come searching for me.”

 

Gin stared at him. “Eh? But how can I resist, my lady? I long to know you better--”

 

“You will not find me,” Morisuke interrupted, holding up a hand. “And even if you did, you would not know me. It is better you not try. That way you will be safe.” He sighed, then, glancing around the little hovel. Maybe a different tactic would work.

 

“This is… your home, Gin-san?” Morisuke asked, pacing the short length of one wall, trailing his fingers along it.

 

“Yes! It's small, but it's shelter. I have all I need,” Gin said, and Morisuke could tell that he meant it. What an unusual human-- Morisuke had known mortals to be greedy things, always itching for more, for better… and here was one, with far less than many, and he did not yearn for anything.

 

“It is lovely,” Morisuke said.

 

“Is it? I suppose.” Gin stepped close, and Morisuke realized belatedly that he needed to hunch ever so slightly to fit.

 

“You are too tall,” Morisuke laughed. “This is a dream, Gin-san. Surely you can alter it so you need not be so uncomfortable.” That said, the kitsune let his magic wind through the threads of the dream, and at his bidding, the ceiling extended just enough that Gin could stand upright.

 

“Oh,” gasped Gin, blinking at the adjustment. He straightened up. “Thank you.”

 

Morisuke shook his head. “There is nothing to thank me for. This is only temporary, and only in your dream. When you wake, your cottage will be as it always is.” It was a pointless, though simple task; but because Morisuke had done it, he knew that Gin would accept his magic. Perhaps it was because asleep, and as a result, he was not so guarded (though Morisuke did wonder if he were guarded at all, even awake-- Gin gave off such an air of childlike trust). 

 

“You should forget all this,” Morisuke whispered, so that Gin did not hear-- at least, not consciously. His magic began to twine with that of Gin’s, to worm its way into his being.

 

“What?”

 

“You should forget all this,” Morisuke said again, though not any louder. He just needed to say it one more time, and the magic would be at its most powerful. Around them, the spell laid itself like steel across the magic already there, strengthening.

 

Gin frowned, stepping closer. “Lady Kaede, I cannot hear you, might I trouble you to speak up?”

 

“I said,” Morisuke told him, finally raising his voice, “That you should forget all this.” His words trembled with power, and around them, the net of his enchantment drew tight. It would work, Morisuke hoped.

 

“It is better for us both,” he said softly, lifting his hand from the fabric of the dream. He felt the spell thrumming through Gin’s mind, taking hold. “Goodnight, Gin-san. May we not meet again.”

 

Morisuke left.

 

/////

 

The next evening, Kuroo asked Morisuke to accompany him once more. This time, he claimed to have more wares to set out than normal, and he could use some help fixing them into a decent display…

 

With a sigh, Morisuke agreed. He had hunted and eaten already, and he had nothing better to do-- besides, he could use a distraction. For some reason or other, Morisuke’s mind kept drawing back to Gin, and the kitsune was tiring very quickly of thinking in circles.

 

He showed up in his preferred human form-- a small-statured man with cropped hair the color of his fur and lean muscle, it was a more accurate representation of Morisuke’s actual features (not in the least because of his gender).

 

“Aw, you couldn't have come in your lady form today, Yakkun?” Kuroo asked, pouting in mock disappointment.

 

“Silence,” Morisuke snapped. “I need not help you after all, you ungrateful cat.” That said, he did bend to open up a crate of potion vials this time, and he took out the labelled bottles and began to arrange them in the wire racks Kuroo had hung up on the sides of the stall. 

 

“You know you love me, Yakkun. No need to pretend,” Kuroo teased, grinning. He raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of pretense… what happened to that mortal?”

 

“I got a memory, I let him go. He will not be coming back.” Morisuke fished in his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle, its contents a golden liquid like dappled sunlight. As it sloshed against the sides of its container, the faint ripple of it sounded like laughter. “Here. A mortal’s fond memory. Perhaps your master might find use for it.”

 

Kuroo took it, holding the bottle up to the light to consider it. “This is a good one,” he noted. “A childhood memory, I believe.”

 

Morisuke shrugged. “Is that so?” He bent and moved on to the next box of potions. “Anyhow, why the sudden interest?”

 

“Sudden?” Kuroo was setting out some crystals and charmed jewelry pieces on the tabletop, but he stopped to look incredulously at Morisuke. “You went to him on my challenge, and then you didn't come back the rest of the morn. Can you blame me for being curious?”

 

Morisuke scowled at him. “If you are implying I did anything but what I have claimed--”

 

Kuroo chuckled. “Defensive, aren't you? Now I'm definitely curious.” He waggled his eyebrows. “What sort of thing would I have been implying?”

 

“Best you not be,” Morisuke responded, disregarding the last part of Kuroo’s statement. “Curiosity isn't especially safe for your kind, is it?” He stepped back from the racks and shifted back into his fox shape. “And I believe you can handle the rest of your wares yourself.”

 

Morisuke wandered out to browse among the rest of the marketplace, hoping to purchase some ambrosia, perhaps, or one of those faen brews that helped promote wakefulness… or maybe, he ought to buy a sleeping draught instead. 

 

He did not get far, however, when he felt a change in the air-- one he was familiar with from the night prior.

 

Gin had returned, despite Morisuke’s warnings. How? How had he come back, when he shouldn't have remembered anything about their meeting? Had Morisuke’s magic failed him after all? If so, this man was a formidable force indeed, one that would need to be taken care of lest he endanger the entire market, and the races that frequented here.

 

But ah, how Morisuke hoped it would not come to that. It seemed so cruel a thing to do, especially since Gin himself was unaware of his potential.

 

Morisuke needed to know right now how this man was here yet again. And he needed to get him out. Again.

 

It was maybe a little irritating.

 

Morisuke shifted into Kaede, and he rushed to Gin, clutching at his hakama. “Gin-san, why have you returned?” he hissed, glancing around them worriedly.

 

Gin blinked at him. “Pardon? I think you may have mistaken me for someone else, my lady. My name is not Gin, it is--”

 

Before he could get even a syllable further, Morisuke slapped a hand over his mouth. “You mustn’t speak of names, here,” he said emphatically. “Not your real one, at any rate, though even nicknames can be dangerous betimes.”

 

He waited for Gin to nod, and then stepped back, freeing him to speak once more.

 

“How do I know you, then, milady? And why do you call me Gin?” Gin cocked his head curiously, blinking at Morisuke as if seeing him for the first time-- struck with the beauty of this form and clearly enamored. Morisuke supposed that to Gin, it must have been exactly that, though. He had clearly lost all memory of the night before, as Morisuke had intended, but that meant--

 

Did he have such a one-track mind that even though he did not recall the reason, he still stubbornly came to find the bazaar once more? And his magic once again lent itself to show him the way?

 

“We met, last night,” Morisuke confessed, folding his hands and looking into the distance. “You wandered into the market by chance, and I escorted you out. You do not belong here, mortal-- it is unsafe for you to linger.”

 

“I don't… Why can I not remember this?”

 

“Because I took that memory from you, sir,” Morisuke answered. “For your own good. And yet, even then, you have come back. You must leave.” He grabbed Gin’s sleeve and began to tug him through the lanes of the market, chiding him under his breath not to touch, nor question anything. 

 

“Wait, wait!” Gin dug his heels in, and Morisuke was forced to let him go. “Wait. You  _ took _ my memory?”

 

Morisuke nodded. “Yes. This is a magical market, could you not tell? Look around you. These creatures are not human, and neither am I.” He fluttered a hand dismissively. “Taking memories is as easy as plucking fruit from the boughs of a tree, Gin-san-- for me and for many. It is but one reason you had best go home.” He gestured with one arm as if to encompass the whole of the market. “Others would not be so considerate of you, as I have been. They would drain you dry until you were nothing but a mindless husk of a man. I have seen it before, and do not desire to see it happen again.”

 

Gin frowned, considering. “And you would not do the same? Why should I trust you?”

 

Morisuke shrugged, the roll of his shoulders as elegant as it was natural. “You shouldn't. But it is that or lose your way here. The market appears simple and straightforward, but it is easy to be led astray-- especially for one so unfamiliar with the nature of the fae,” Morisuke replied, stepping forward. “Will you let me guide you from here, sir? Or shall I go on my way?” the last question was tinged with a bit of irritation; Morisuke had gone out of his way to warn the man, after all, to save him from his own stupidity. Surely that warranted a little bit of trust, if not complete reliance (incidentally, the latter was something Morisuke would  _ strongly _ advise against).

 

“Wait. Don't… I meant no offense, my lady. I speak my mind often without pause to think over my words,” Gin said, bowing low in deference. 

 

Morisuke’s eyes softened, and he once more faced Gin. “Then all the more you must leave. With creatures such as these, thoughtless with your speaking is the worst thing you can be,” he said, not unkindly. He extended one smooth palm to Gin. “Come, Gin-san. I will lead you out, and may it be for the last time.”

 

Gin glanced at it, then back to Morisuke. He hesitated, but then he gripped it firmly, and Morisuke led him out of the market the same way he did the previous evening.

 

“My lady,” Gin said, as Morisuke released him into the night. “You say we have met before, and perhaps I do not recall it, but clearly, some part of me does, and it has led me back to you,” he went on. Morisuke didn't know what was coming next, but he had a feeling it would not be what he wanted to hear.

 

“Might I come find you tomorrow? Even if it be elsewhere. I would like to get to know you.”

 

Morisuke fought back a sigh. How stubborn and bullheaded, this man was. Morisuke really ought to be more annoyed by this. “No, Gin-san,” Morisuke said firmly. “You may not. Though it pains me, it simply cannot be-- you are mortal, and I am not, and for us to have met twice now is more than should have been.”

 

Gin deflated a little, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “Ah. I see.” And then, somehow, he perked up once more. “Might I have something to call you by, at least?”

 

Morisuke figured it couldn't hurt. He had given him an alias the night before as well, and really, it might be enough consolation for him that he would not return. “Kaede. For my kanzashi, as I call you Gin for your hair,” Morisuke told him. 

 

“Thank you, Lady Kaede. I hope our paths will cross once more.”

 

“I mean all the best when I say I wish the opposite,” Morisuke replied. “I am not a creature to be taken lightly, sir, and fickle at that. While today and yesterday it struck me as good to aid you, tomorrow I cannot guarantee the same.” The words were harsh, but true to an extent. More than anything, Morisuke said them as to further dissuade Gin from coming back again, especially since Morisuke would not be taking his recollection of this evening like he had the last.

 

“Good evening, my lady.” Gin bowed, and then turned and walked into the morning fog. Morisuke watched him go, wondering at the irony; shouldn't it be the fae who vanished into the dawn, like nothing more than a hazy dream?

 

Feeling odd and out of place, Morisuke headed back to Kuroo’s stall, changing back into his natural fox shape and curling up in one of the back corners. Kuroo wrapped up his haggling with a customer, kept away the gold he’d been paid, and then turned to face the kitsune. “He came back for you,” he said, raising his eyebrows. 

 

“He did,” Morisuke confirmed, scowling. “Despite being unable to recall a single fragment of yesterday eve, he came. Drawn by some godforsaken instinct and drive even my power could not erase.” Morisuke huffed. “Remarkably single-minded, that man. I do not know what to make of him.”

 

Kuroo smirked. “Perhaps you should be flattered. To have such a hold over him… Truly it means your beauty and kindness struck him so deeply, down to his very soul.”

 

Morisuke rolled his eyes. “Must you be so overly dramatic at every possible opportunity, Kuroo?” He snorted. “Besides, that is the main point of that form; to tempt and tantalize-- though it was never meant to absorb him so. And anyhow, it is not my true form, so why should I feel flattered?”

 

Kuroo blinked, as if genuinely surprised. Then he grinned again, wicked sharp and glinting in the market lights. “My, my, Yakkun. Is that bitterness, I hear?”

 

“Over what?” Morisuke had no idea where this was going. Kuroo was, yet again, jumping to conclusions Morisuke couldn't even hope to comprehend.

 

Kuroo’s smirk stretched wider. “You want him to feel that way for your true self, do you not? I hear it plainly in your tone. He intrigues you-- and though he seems a little dim, he was quite a specimen, don't you agree?” He paused to attend to some customers, in which Morisuke pondered on everything Kuroo had just said.

 

It bothered him that he could not immediately form a denial; because it meant that, even if only in part, Kuroo was correct.

 

“Yakkun?”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Morisuke managed, pushing to his feet as his tails flicked about in aggravation. Was Kuroo right? Was that what was sitting odd in his gut, like a stone at the bottom of the ocean? “I grew out of passing fancies with mortals an age ago,” he said, almost to himself.

 

The cat familiar shrugged. “If you say so. But humans do change, over time, and every now and then, there is a gem among them-- it is not so shameful to be attracted to one.” Kuroo fingered at the sigil branded onto the back of his hand meaningfully-- the mark of his master, a human mage that Morisuke actually rather liked, and who Kuroo loved.

 

“You are a familiar, Kuroo,” Morisuke sighed. “It is different. Your kind is meant to bond with mortals, more often than not. I cannot claim the same-- I am purely of the magic and the fae.” He waved his tails pointedly.

 

“Suit yourself, Yakkun. If that is what you believe, then I suppose it is so.” Kuroo leant against the tabletop, fiddling with the arrangement of the pieces out for sale. “But if that is a mere excuse, you’d best realize it soon.”

 

Morisuke did not answer him.

 

/////

 

The night passed without further incident, and Morisuke left the bazaar as the sun began to rise, its rays reaching out to warm and wake everything it could touch. He arrived home to find a note on his doorstep, smelling faintly of herbs and smoke and-- cat, folded into a little origami crane. That meant it was from Kuroo or his master, Kenma, though Morisuke still skirted around it and fished for the right ingredients for a testing spell, just to be safe. After three centuries, it was hard to recall who had it out for him and who didn't; while it was true, Morisuke very rarely made enemies, the magic world was rife with all sorts of petty grudges, and it was quite possible for one to be caught up in a fight only due to an association or other-- anyhow, the details were unimportant. Morisuke verified that the note was safe, and then he picked it up and opened it, splaying it out against the smooth stone of his floor.

 

_ Thank you for the memory. It is a valuable ingredient, and hard for me to procure on my own. I would like to give you something in return, if you would let me. I will send it with Kuroo tomorrow to the bazaar. _

 

_ -Kenma _

 

Morisuke smiled. That kid was kind and intelligent; by ‘difficult to procure’, he probably meant the verbal contract more than the actual magical procedure-- it was more complicated for a mage than it was for a kitsune, of course, but Kenma was a prodigy. He was just more comfortable by his lonesome than most other humans.

 

Although he’d been planning to avoid the market… he figured it couldn't hurt. If Gin returned again, Morisuke need not approach him. It was unlikely that he would recognize Morisuke, and as long as Gin followed the rules Morisuke had given him, he would be safe… probably.

 

Morisuke went about his business the rest of the day, and when it came time for the bazaar, he made his way there leisurely-- after all, what was there to rush for?

 

“Oh, Yakkun,” Kuroo said by way of greeting. “You came after all. I was worried you might choose to stay home until you were certain that mortal wouldn't come back.”

 

Morisuke was startled for a second, but then he remembered that Kuroo, for all his bluster and joking, was more intelligent than he pretended to be. “Truth be told, I nearly did. I came because of Kenma’s note.”

 

“Ah, right.” He fished around in one of the boxes behind him and produced a pair of earrings. “Kenma said you might like these. They should help bolster your illusions, he said, especially your glamours.”

 

Morisuke blinked down at them-- gorgeously worked silver things styled into roses, a single pearl nestled in the center of each.

 

“He enchanted them thrice over,” Kuroo added.

 

Morisuke admired them a moment longer and then threaded them through the holes in his ears, using his reflection in one of the potion bottles on the wall to do so. “They’re lovely. Pass along my thanks, please.”

 

“He’ll be glad to hear it. He so rarely gives his jewelry to those he knows personally for fear of judgment, though he claims other reasons.” Kuroo smiled. “I hope this will set him at ease somewhat.”

 

Kuroo finished up preparing the stall, and Morisuke wordlessly helped him along. Little by little, the tension leaked from his shoulders as the market around them grew busier and busier-- perhaps Gin had finally learned after all.

 

Or not.

 

Morisuke’s hands twitched as he felt a faint but recognizable presence, and he knew Gin had defied his latest warning too.

 

“Fool of fools,” Morisuke muttered, shifting into Kaede quicker than one could blink-- Kuroo hadn't been lying about the earrings making it easier to cast illusions, had he?-- and already exiting the stall. “Is there no way to convince him to maintain his distance from this place?”

 

Kuroo chuckled at his griping. “Maybe you should stop indulging him. Let him amble, waiting for you. That might work.”

 

Morisuke frowned. That had been his resolution earlier this evening, but… “If only I could, but should he fall into harm’s way while I am present, I would not be able to cope.”

 

“Fond of him already?” Kuroo joked, waving to someone he knew in the distance. “It’s only been two evenings, Yakkun.”

 

“Fond is too strong a word,” Morisuke sniffed, “If not entirely wrong. I simply have a conscience, unlike some cats I know.” That said, he swept past Kuroo and towards Gin’s aura.

 

“That hurts, Yakkun!” Kuroo yelled after him, voice laced with laughter. Morisuke didn't even need to spin around to picture the pout on his face threatening to burst into a grin, nor the hand clutched to his chest in mock horror. “I have a very, very stringent conscience, and I take offense that you would allude to otherwise!”

 

Morisuke merely rolled his eyes.

 

He came to the edge of the bazaar, and found no Gin. Was he imagining… no. No he wasn't. He could tell now that he was closer-- Gin’s aura was outside, as if he were just standing on the threshold. He hadn't crossed.

 

He apparently had some semblance of a brain on him, at least.

 

Morisuke stepped into the mortal realm, brow furrowed, a lecture already rising to his lips-- but Gin was not alone.

 

“Kenma?” Morisuke could not stop the name from leaving his mouth, a shocked exhale. What…? 

 

Kenma’s eyes roved over him impassively, glinting with recognition as they saw the earrings. “Good evening,” he mumbled, just this side of audible. Morisuke couldn't help but gawp. What was he doing here, and how did he know--

 

“Kenma? How do you know Lady Kaede? Why did you not tell me you knew her?” Gin complained, head swiveling back and forth between Kenma and Morisuke himself as he attempted to process this information.

 

Truthfully, Morisuke was tempted to do something similar, but refrained. He didn't want to look childish, and really, it was unnecessary. Now that he thought of it, it made sense… there weren't many human settlements around here, and he knew Kenma lived nearby the market and always had. Gin, too, had not seemed to be a passing traveler. 

 

“Kenma!” Gin said again.

 

Kenma ignored him. “Is this the man Kuroo was telling me about?” he asked Morisuke. 

 

Technically, Morisuke didn't know. Odds were, though… “It is highly likely.”

 

“I’m sorry, then. He wouldn't leave me alone, and neither would he explain his reasons,” Kenma elaborated. “I had suspicions, but no time to confirm with you. He insisted on coming tonight.”

 

Morisuke sighed. “It’s all right, Kenma,” he said. Before he could say more, however, Gin jumped in.

 

“Wait! Lady Kaede, how do you know Kenma? And I thought you said names were dangerous-- why do you speak his so freely?”

 

It was Kenma who replied: “I am a mage. I have wards, and anyhow, I have known--” Kenma cut himself off, golden eyes glancing at Morisuke’s form-- “Lady Kaede for quite some time, though by a different name…” Below his breath, soft enough that Morisuke barely caught it, he added, “and a different face as well.” 

 

Kenma reached up and idly began to fiddle with a lock of hair by his ear. “My familiar has known him much longer.”

 

“Your what?” Gin asked, sounding legitimately puzzled.

 

“Never you mind,” Morisuke snapped, taking quick steps toward them. “You’d best leave, Gin-san. I would not see you suffer for your lack of knowledge.”

 

“He-- She’s right, you know,” Kenma piped up, pulling on the hood of his cloak. “Even I don't linger here. It is too unpredictable a place, too enthralling. It is not for us humans.”

 

Gin did not show even a sign of listening. “Even so!” he protested. “I think of you so often, my lady, sometimes I wonder if I am capable of thinking of anything else at all--”

 

(In an undertone, Kenma commented, “I’m surprised you think of even that much; you so rarely show any consideration.”)

 

“--and if I could but learn a little more about you, I'm certain I would not need so desperately to see you each night,” Gin said, clutching at Morisuke’s hands.

 

Morisuke willed his heart to stop swooping-- it was nothing but a paltry set of words, pretty but shallow. He was more than three centuries old, he would not be swayed so easily! “So you claim, but you have not heeded me before, when I told you not to come,” Morisuke said.

 

“Please,” Gin pleaded, tightening his grip ever so slightly. “I swear to you, I will not return again, if I can but have one night to spend with you.”

 

Kenma was looking at Morisuke knowingly, as if he could tell the kitsune was already giving in. He wasn't. Not quite. He had one more protest (if a feeble one). “I told you I am a fickle thing. If in the next second I should decide you are not worth my time nor presence, and bewitch you or leave you to the wolves-- you would risk that?” Morisuke met his gaze, steely-eyed. “I would not advise it, for your sake.”

 

Kenma chimed in, “Lady Kaede is more powerful than you can comprehend, L-- Gin. The consequences could be more dire than you think.”

 

“I am prepared to pay that price,” Gin said, eyes equally as hard. 

 

“You are a true idiot,” Kenma grumbled, but when he looked at Morisuke, Morisuke knew he didn't believe his farce for a second-- he knew with utmost certainty that Morisuke was too kind, despite his claims. He would not hurt Gin, could he help it. “I will not be held responsible for any injuries you might take. I warned you time and time again.” The mage turned to go, one hand raised in a lazy wave. “Good evening, Lady Kaede; Gin. I will be taking my leave now.”

 

Morisuke watched him go, resigned to his fate. “Very well.  _ One _ \--” He held up one finger in emphasis-- “evening. Tonight. Then you leave, and you shan’t return. Ever.” He folded his hands in front of him. “Is that clear, mortal?”

 

Gin nodded enthusiastically, grinning ear to ear like a child who’d had too many sweets. “Yes! Clear as glass, Lady Kaede.”

 

Morisuke’s mouth twitched into a smile of his own. It seemed he was just as hopeless as this mortal, wasn't he? “So, human, you have me for the night. What do you want of me?” He stepped close, trailing one hand down the length of Gin’s arm. “Well, Gin-san?”

 

Gin blushed at the teasing suggestion laced through Morisuke’s tone, and though he didn't back down, he didn't surge forward either. Instead, he said, “I just… I want to get to know you, my lady. As I said before.”

 

Morisuke moved back, then, paying no mind to the small sigh of relief Gin let out nor the slight disappointment writ across the line of his shoulders, crouching down and placing a hand on the ground. He called on his magic to craft a carpet from the leaves beneath them, then folded his legs beneath him and sat down primly. “Well, what do you wish to know? I cannot promise to answer everything honestly… but I will what I can.” He paused to raise a hand in a beckoning gesture. “Come, sit, Gin-san. You will tire quickly if you stand all night.”

 

Gingerly, Gin followed suit, awkwardly arranging his gangly limbs so that he could sit comfortably on the rug before Morisuke.  “What are you, Lady Kaede? You tell me always that you are powerful and fickle, but never what you are…”

 

“That, I will not tell you.”

 

“But why not?”

 

“Because.” Morisuke shook his head. “You will assume things about me, as all humans do-- and since the night has but begun, I will not have it tainted with your fear.” That, and if he knew what Morisuke was, it would be easier for him to find Morisuke should he wish it. He probably would, too.

 

“I would not--” Gin began, but Morisuke cut him off with a raised hand.

 

“You would. Even Kenma, though I have long been a friend to his familiar, was wary of me until quite recently.” Morisuke, for lack of anything better to do with his hands, began the arduous process of letting down his hair, hands running through it to free it of tangles. “Mayhap, I will tell you later, before you go. Maybe.”

 

Gin seemed to mull this over for a moment, but thankfully, chose not to push the issue. “Are you old?” He asked next.

 

Morisuke blinked at the question, and then chuckled. “In human terms, yes. I am somewhere upward of 320-- I lost track of the exact number half a decade ago.” He ran a few mental calculations, then said, “But if you equate my total lifespan to yours, I am still in my adolescence.”

 

“Oh. That is old. I’m only 18,” Gin admitted. 

 

Ah, he was so  _ young.  _ Younger than Morisuke had expected, though not as young as he sometimes behaved. It was all the more reason Morisuke should not keep indulging him like this, lest he lose the many years ahead of him yet to the traps and contracts his kind were so fond of.

 

“How do you know Kenma?”

 

“I am friends with his familiar from before the two bonded-- do you know what a familiar is?”

 

Gin shook his head, patiently awaiting Morisuke’s explanation. If only he were so attentive to Morisuke’s insistence that he not come back...

 

“A familiar is an animal meant to be bound to mages, warlocks, sorcerers, witches-- whatever name you call them, they are about the same. Not all witches need a familiar, mind you, but most have one,” Morisuke told Gin, beginning to weave his hair into a braid.

 

Gin took all this in. “What for?”

 

“Many reasons,” Morisuke replied. “Having a familiar is said to boost one's abilities. They also often act as guards or lookouts against unfriendly parties. In the case of human mages, they can run errands and go places most ordinary mortals cannot, as Kenma’s often does with this market.” Morisuke flapped a hand in dismissal. “There are many more benefits, but those are the main ones.”

 

“You’re friends with… Kenma’s cat?”

 

Morisuke nodded. “In a sense. But he is no mere cat; familiars are as ancient as human mages themselves-- somewhere down the line, they evolved to be shapeshifters, capable of taking human form for easier communication and to be of added assistance to their masters.” Morisuke paused, tying off the braid. “Although I'm not entirely sure if that's always the case. I’ve heard of a few occasions where rather than a shifter, the animals merely talk like you and I might…”

 

“Oh.”

 

Time passed quickly like this-- Gin would ask innocuous questions, and Morisuke would either answer or turn it away, and sometimes, he would ask Gin something in return, although often, the mortal seemed more than willing to volunteer information Morisuke hadn't even asked for.

 

What folly, Morisuke thought. Gin was lucky he was no longer the mischief-maker he had once been. (And if Morisuke could not help but feel warm at the genuine joy infusing Gin’s every word and gesture, if he found himself interested in his life more than was appropriate or drawn in by this mortal’s strange magnetism… well, there was no one to call him out on it.)

 

Soon enough, the dawn came, and the sun woke from its slumber, crawling up the horizon. Gin watched it in awe as it climbed, but when Morisuke moved to rise too, Gin suddenly looked stricken-- the evening was over, but he didn't appear quite ready to part.

 

Truth be told, Morisuke wasn't ready either. He almost wanted to cast a spell on this space, hide the sun from their eyes and make it seem as if it were still night, that they might talk more.

 

But that was ridiculous. Gin needed to go, and Morisuke needed to let him. Hadn't that been the whole point of this exercise? To finally send him off?

 

Morisuke stood. “It is time, Gin-san, for me to leave you. Begone, human, and do not come searching for me again.” 

 

Gin slowly got to his feet, moving as if he were moving through layers and layers of cloth. “I will, my lady, though just the thought of not seeing you again rends my heart in two.” He reached out for Morisuke’s hands, and Morisuke, though he didn't know why, let him take them. “But… Lady Kaede, might I ask one last thing of you?”

 

“I cannot promise to grant it,” Morisuke said, “but you may.”

 

“Might I ask for a kiss? To remember you by.” Gin’s cheeks filled with ruddy color, and his eyes fixed on the ground beneath their feet, on the shadows that grew longer as the sun rose higher. “I would consider it a great blessing, my lady.”

 

There were many things Morisuke should have said then-- simplest among them, ‘no’. But Morisuke did not say that. He wanted it just as much as Gin did, and really, maybe if he just… gave in this once, he could get these irrational urges out of both their systems, save them many a trial in the future.

 

Morisuke cupped Gin’s cheek in one hand, touch gentle as he brought himself closer to the human, so that their bodies  _ nearly _ pressed together and their breaths mingled. “Only if you will look at me first, dear Gin-san,” he whispered.

 

Gin met his eyes without hesitation.

 

_ What a lovely, vivid green-- so out of season in the autumn, but lovely all the same. Or perhaps, it was  _ because  _ it was out of season that it was so lovely? So full of life, even when all around them was the season of decay. _

 

Morisuke brought their lips together.

 

When their mouths met, Gin gasped against Morisuke’s like he'd expected to meet nothing but empty air-- or something equally as ludicrous. As if he'd expected Morisuke to evaporate before they could well and truly kiss.

 

Morisuke’s free hand settled on Gin’s shoulder, and he used all the experience at his disposal (which was quite a bit) to lead Gin through the motions, slow and steady and sweet, their lips moving in sync against each other in a rhythm only the two of them knew. Their magic twisted and twined around them in some graceful yet formless dance, melding and coming apart and spinning all sorts of tales of what could be and what they both desired, in their heart of hearts-- Morisuke was sure only he could sense it, though.

 

And oh, how Morisuke had missed this, though he hadn't realized it. There was part of him that wanted to take this further-- to lick into Gin’s mouth and taste every inch of him, to bring the coil of heat in his gut to the surface and put it into motion like nothing else mattered--

 

But no. This was nothing but an absurd whim, and one of the flesh to boot-- nothing of any importance. It would pass, as these things were wont to do. All Morisuke had to do was let it.

 

Morisuke separated from Gin. He was short of breath, head still swirling-- all this from such a chaste and brief kiss? “Good evening, Gin-san. Thank you for the wonderful conversation,” Morisuke said, bowing lightly and doing his best not to betray how weak he felt in the aftermath. Should Gin ask him to stay, Morisuke knew he would give in… and he could not.

 

Gin did not answer, only dipped his head in return before walking home, presumably.

 

For whatever reason, Morisuke felt as if he had lost something.

 

/////

 

Luckily (or unluckily-- Morisuke wasn't sure which), the bazaar hadn't closed completely yet, though it was mostly empty now. There were a few stragglers, maybe hoping to get better deals from exhausted and harried merchants who just wanted to go home, or else other vendors who were nearly done packing up their leftover goods. Among them was Kuroo, though Morisuke could tell even from a few feet away that the last bottles he was securing in the crate before him were just a prop-- he could have been done far sooner, really.

 

Which meant he was waiting for Morisuke. It was a little ominous, though Morisuke would never admit it to Kuroo.

 

It was even more unsettling that Kuroo wasn't wearing his trademark grin. “You are denying yourself that which you need not,” he said without preamble, as Morisuke approached. His eyes were soft as his voice when he went on, “He’s a good kid, Lev. He wouldn't ask of you more than you’re willing to give, though he can be quite an oaf at times.”

 

Morisuke blinked. And then he remembered: Kenma knew Lev, which meant Kuroo had recognized him from the start and--

 

Wait.

 

“ _ Kuroo _ ! You imbecile of imbeciles, did you just tell me his name?” Morisuke hissed, hopping up onto the stall counter to curl his claws into Kuroo’s tunic. “You know what havoc I can wreak with that! Why do you think I insisted on calling him Gin all this time?”

 

“Did I?” Kuroo asked, entirely nonplussed even though Morisuke intentionally dug in his claws enough to prick at his skin and draw tiny beads of blood that bloomed into color against the white of his clothes. “Whoops.”

 

Morisuke released him with a growl. “You disgust me,” he snarled, tails agitatedly swishing back and forth. “Don't play the fool with me, you and I both know you didn't just slip up. You're far too careful and intelligent for that.” He jumped down from the counter and grew larger, big enough that Kuroo found himself backed into the farthest corner of the stall. “That was  _ deliberate _ . Why?”

 

Kuroo didn't even seemed  _ bothered _ . Morisuke knew the cat was fond of provoking people, riling them up, but this was… this was insane! Incorrigible. 

 

“To prove a point,” Kuroo said then, and Morisuke made a sound low in his throat. A threat.

 

“ _ What _ point?”

 

“That you're better than you claim, Yaku Morisuke. And you know it.” Kuroo’s tone brooked no contradiction-- but Morisuke would be damned if he didn't at least give it a good shot.

 

“You say that, but as we speak I am mulling over the benefits of slitting your throat,” Morisuke said, raising one huge paw to press against Kuroo’s torso. The tip of his claw tapped lightly against the familiar’s pulse point. “I’m seeing more and more positives to following through with it.”

 

Kuroo simply raised an eyebrow, as unfazed as ever. “All right, do it then. Go on, Yakkun.” As if to further encourage him, Kuroo pressed his throat firmly against Morisuke’s claw. “Do it. Be the scoundrel you say you are.” Kuroo’s lips quirked in half a smile. “Or better yet! Use my name. I gave it to you long ago, and did so personally. Your hold on it is far stronger than that of yours on Lev’s-- you have the whole of it, too, not just a piece. And as a magical being, I'm much more attuned to it-- the effects could be devastating!”

 

Morisuke’s glare could have killed a lesser creature. He moved to lower his paw to the ground, but Kuroo covered it with his own palm, exercising some of his own power to keep Morisuke from doing so. Morisuke was too stunned by the rare show of magic on Kuroo’s behalf and his insistence on the point to contest him. “ _ Do it _ . You know you can. It would be easy as breathing for you.”

 

Kuroo suddenly let Morisuke go, and the kitsune stepped back, shrinking down to a more reasonable size. “But you won't, will you?” he asked, softly. “Because we're friends. And for all that you are-- stronger, wiser, older than I; a more mysterious race with much darker lore around it-- you are not malicious.”

 

Morisuke stared at Kuroo for a moment, and then he sighed, morphing into his usual human form-- the male one, not Kaede. “You are beyond a doubt the dumbest being I have ever met,” Morisuke sighed, glowering weakly at Kuroo. “What if--”

 

Kuroo cut him off with a snort. “What if nothing. You wouldn't have hurt me. If you think you would have, you are sorely mistaken. It would also make  _ you  _ the dumbest being  _ I  _ have ever met.”

 

“Your trust in me is misplaced,” Morisuke whispered.

 

“No. It is your self-doubt that does not belong. You are a good man, Yakkun. Er. Fox?”

 

Morisuke chuckled. “Either.”

 

/////

 

Though his conversation with Kuroo comforted Morisuke quite a bit, he was still unsure and mildly (extremely) terrified by his interest in G-- Lev.

 

Lev… what an odd name. Was it foreign, perhaps?

 

Well, that aside, Morisuke didn't know what to do with this… whatever it was. They weren't feelings-- not yet. That would come later, when they had known each other longer than a few days. But they were the seeds of them, maybe. A curiosity to be sated that could eventually blossom into more, if Morisuke let it.

 

Should he?

 

Morisuke spent the better part of the day thinking about it-- what it would mean for him and for the mortal if he chose to follow through with this, what they would gain, and all they could stand to lose. He mulled over his options, and how he would go about each choice. For you and I, perhaps this seems overkill; a whole day, dedicated to considering a single decision? Surely it sounds like lunacy or paranoia.

 

But you and I, our lives are short. One day for us feels like a large portion of time, meant to be split and split again, cut into neat little blocks that we might make the most of what little life we have. For Morisuke, a day was as good as a minute, a second. It all meant the same to him, he who had lived three hundred years already and would live many more-- whose life was but a third of the way through. And unlike us, Morisuke knew there was no point to rushing. In his experience, running headlong into things only resulted in trouble and pain. Better to be careful, to think well on what he would and wouldn't do for something so big as this-- as a bond with another.

 

It was sunset when there was a puff at smoke by his doorstep. Morisuke went to inspect it and found a note from Kenma.

 

Morisuke read through it quickly. It was an apology-- for causing Morisuke distress and complicating matters with Lev. But it was also a message of support for Morisuke; Kenma believed much the same as Kuroo, it seemed, and while he didn't say much on the subject, the fact that he praised Lev at all in the letter proved how highly Kenma did regard him. For others, Morisuke knew Kenma likely wouldn't have bothered.

 

It didn't set Morisuke’s mind at ease much. It was almost evening again, and still he had not come to a conclusion for what he ought to do.

 

Morisuke sighed, pacing the length of his burrow over and over-- he’d burn a path into the ground at this rate, but who cared? It would be simple enough to fix it with a spell. His friends… did they really think it was a good idea for Morisuke to pursue this? 

 

Did Morisuke genuinely agree?

 

Some part of him must have, or he wouldn't be considering this at all. His fingers traced the neat script of Kenma’s writing, found Lev’s name among the mess. Morisuke felt his magic tugging. It wanted him to say it, to read it out and call to the power lying latent in Lev’s being, to lead him here.

 

It was what he wanted, after all, and magic was a primal, selfish thing. It did not know anything of practicality or rationality. It only knew desire.

 

But could Morisuke trust that obeying its whims was the best thing for him? For Lev?

 

What a failure of a kitsune he was. So sympathetic to mortals who were so far beneath him, who were as easily blown away by his power as dandelion fluff in the breeze. Why did it matter what Lev needed? He was nothing but a human--

 

One with a smile like the sun in the summer, warm and welcoming and bright. One who wanted nothing from Morisuke but time and conversation, who didn't want his magic or his fur or his tails, who didn't fear him for the whispers about his kind… not yet, anyway. 

 

Who was he kidding, it was no wonder Morisuke cared so much in so little time. It was as inevitable as it was that the sun would rise on each tomorrow.

 

As dusk fell, Morisuke lay himself down to rest in hopes that he would wake with a clearer mind. He hadn't slept since his short nap before going to the bazaar the night before this one, and his lack of sleep was probably a factor in why his head felt so hazy about making his choice.

 

Yes, that was it. When he awoke, Morisuke was certain he would be able to make the right decision. He had never had trouble doing so before.

 

/////

 

Morisuke found himself awake a short hour or so later, not by his own volition, but because something was off. Groggy as he was, still rubbing sleep from his eyes with a yawn, it took him a few moments to pinpoint what exactly had caused him to wake.

 

There was an aura nearby. A strong one.

 

Now, Morisuke had specifically chosen this part of the woods for his burrow because very few (both magical and non-magical) passed by it. Furthermore, Morisuke had helped to lessen even what few did come and go through here, laying ward after ward, spell after spell around his home over the years to keep himself safe and unbothered. While that did not mean it was impossible for a human to have ambled to this area on accident-- it did make it  _ highly  _ unlikely, and his instincts had no doubt picked up on it, making him too ill at ease to remain in his state of slumber.

 

And so here he was, awake and wary. The aura was distinctly human, but not refined enough to be a mage, so that ruled Kenma out. But it was also familiar… somehow. Morisuke’s magic was responding to it, drawing him to it. He knew this energy. Who…

 

All at once, Morisuke knew who it was, and he nearly leapt out of his skin when the realization struck him. Who else could it be but Lev? Morisuke padded over to the entrance of his burrow (safely hidden behind a glamour, so he knew he would not be seen) and peeked out. His night vision confirmed wha he knew already-- it was indeed Lev, back towards Morisuke, hunched over and seemingly looking for something on the ground. 

 

Maybe the man would leave. If Morisuke stayed where he was, in this burrow… he would probably leave eventually.

 

Morisuke held onto this resolve for all of five minutes, before he felt himself caving to his protective urges. In this deep, secluded part of the forest, the creatures that roamed were the powerful-- the beasts and the vicious things, the ancient ones so far removed from mortality that a human life was a toy.

 

And while they seldom came by, thanks to Morisuke’s claim on the place, a human might just tip the scales and lure them here.

 

And then Lev would be gone. It didn't matter how; spirited away or killed or devoured or… it didn't matter. He just would be. Curse this human, why was he always walking into danger zones unawares? 

 

Morisuke scampered out from his home and hid himself behind a tree as he shifted into Kaede. Then he revealed himself. “What are you doing here?”

 

Lev started, whirling to face him so fast he tripped over his own feet and fell on his rear. Morisuke forced himself not to laugh. This was serious.

 

… even if he looked so cute like that, all confused and looking up at Morisuke for once.

 

“Lady Kaede…?” Lev gaped at him, as if he couldn't believe his luck. Then he smiled-- beamed, even-- and leapt to his feet once more. “Lady Kaede! Is it truly you?”

 

A pointless question. The answer would be the same whether it was indeed Morisuke or someone taking his shape. He said as much: “Does it matter? Either way, I would tell you yes. But if you would believe me, it is, in fact, I.”

 

“Oh… that makes sense.” 

 

Morisuke accepted that with a nod, but then brought them back to the topic at hand. He needed Lev gone.  _ Lev  _ needed Lev gone. Else he might suffer some terrible fate, and Morisuke refused to be party to it. “What are you doing here? You have yet to answer me, Gin-san.” He refused to say Lev’s name, even though he knew it.

 

“Oh! Sorry!” Lev bowed quickly in apology, before saying, “I was looking for an herb I promised Kenma! In exchange for helping me last night.”

 

An herb? This area did not sprout many herbs. “What herb?”

 

Lev thought for a moment, and Morisuke pretended not to notice the way he gnawed on his lip in contemplation. “I think he called it. Um. Hm.” He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “I forgot the name, but I know what it looks like!”

 

Morisuke merely raised an eyebrow expectantly.

 

“It’s… leaf...y?”

 

Morisuke’s lips twitched, unbidden, into a small smile. “You’re hopeless,” he sighed fondly. “That can describe any herb in existence, you do know that? Wait but a moment, and I will contact Kenma to ask him.”

 

Lev blinked. “How would you do that?”

 

“Magic, of course. Turn away now. I cannot do it if you are watching me.” Morisuke waited until Lev was facing away from him, and then, when he was certain the man wouldn't attempt to peek, reverted to his true shape and entered his burrow.

 

It took a little while for Morisuke to gather together what he needed and to perform the actual spell to send Kenma a message, and then a little longer for him to receive Kenma’s response. Once he had it, he called out, “I hope you haven't turned around.”

 

“I didn't!” Lev answered, sounding very proud-- inordinately so, to be honest, but Morisuke was, as always when it came to this dumb mortal, too weak to find it anything but adorable.

 

Morisuke climbed out of his burrow and shook himself clean of the dust and dirt that had clung to his fur-- it was an unavoidable thing, living in a burrow, but Morisuke quite preferred it to living in a human home and having to keep up a glamour at all times. He shifted. “There,” he announced. “I’ve finished. Kenma said he was looking for sage. That grows by the path’s edge, far from here. How did you get all this way in?”

 

Lev faced him, shrugging his shoulders. “I don't know, my lady. Truthfully, I was but following my instincts. They led me here-- to you, perhaps.” He grinned. “And that alone has made my late night foray worth it, even if I should go home empty-handed.”

 

Morisuke clicked his tongue and turned away to hide the blush spreading up his neck. “Gin-san, does your flattery know no bounds? It will not garner you another evening with me.” Even as he said it, Morisuke knew that was not true. Lev need only ask him, and he would likely cave yet again. He sighed, smiling softly. “But thank you all the same.”

 

Morisuke waved a hand in the direction of the path, drawing on his power. He wove an illusion of wispy white flames that flickered with gold and silver and green and blue-- all the colors of the world, really; it was showing off, Morisuke knew, but he was allowed that much. He seldom ever got to exercise his magic in such a beautiful way, to an audience so impressionable. Lev gasped, eyes sparkling as he approached the nearest one and reached to touch it, and he let out a delighted laugh when it didn't burn.

 

“Follow the fire, Gin-san, and it shall guide your way back. These lights will show you to your herb as well, you’ll find them touched by the flames, but not burned,” he said.

 

But maybe Morisuke should have been paying more attention to things other than such a party trick. Although he felt quite fine, he had really only napped an hour-- barely enough rest to carry him through two full days. And to extend his illusions all the way to the mortal road, a long distance from his forest home, and to detail them so much as he did, it was no wonder that he was stretched thin.

 

And so it was that his own glamour was faltering, even with Kenma’s earrings on. His ears and tails would fade in and out of focus, like ghostly imprints against the forest backdrop. He himself wasn't aware of this, or he surely would have done something: tried to remedy the problem or hurried Lev on his way. But he did not know, and so he simply watched on as Lev played and examined the fire he had conjured.

 

Lev turned to face him, then, mouth open to say something; what he might have said, we will never know, because it was at that moment that he caught sight of Morisuke’s tails, swaying gently behind him.

 

“My lady,” he breathed, jaw slack with surprise, and though the tails were once again invisible, he knew what he had seen. “You are one of the kitsune. Aren't you?”

 

Morisuke’s blood ran cold, and his voice was brittle as the thinnest layer of ice as he said, “And why would you say such a thing?” He cocked his head as if confused, and attempted to sound concerned, though his mind frantically reviewed every snatch of conversation they’d had, every action that he’d done, as he searched for what he might have done to give himself away.

 

Lev didn't waver. “My lady, please. Speak true. Are you?”

 

“I asked first, mortal,” Morisuke snapped, and at this, Lev did flinch a little. Morisuke was too unnerved to even regret how childish it sounded. Had Kenma revealed him? Kuroo? 

 

“Your tails, my lady,” Lev answered finally. “I saw them just now.” As though he needed to prove it, he went on, “Three of them, the same color as your hair, as long as your forearms and as graceful as your every other move.”

 

“And if it was a trick of the light?”

 

“I know it was not.”

 

Kitsune and human alike refused to buckle, neither willing to back down.

 

Lev spoke. “You need not fear me, Lady Kaede,” he said lowly. “I would not harm you for all the money and power in the world, and I know you would not hurt me either, could you help it.”

 

It was so reminiscent of Kuroo’s own words, but from a much less knowledgeable source-- Kuroo knew what Morisuke was capable of. Lev did not. He had no claim to these words, these reassurances. 

 

The echo of Kuroo’s speech just that morning brought with it the memory of Morisuke’s anger, his fear; his claw against Kuroo’s throat. Kuroo could hold his own, somewhat, against Morisuke even in that state (at the very least, long enough to escape). But Lev? He’d be crushed to dust beneath Morisuke’s power in a split second-- and he didn't even know it.

 

“What would you know of me, mortal?” Morisuke demanded, allowing his glamour to fade away slow until he stood in his fox-shape, his true shape, before Lev. He stood before Lev large as a bear, teeth bared and tails flicking back and forth in agitation. Lev was staring, wide-eyed, at him. “Here I am then-- a kitsune indeed,” he said, and Lev jumped a bit at his voice-- his real one, not the feather-soft lilt of Kaede. Morisuke bristled. “You, who knows me but as a shape I first took to walk among your folk unhindered-- one that I took up again that I might benignly save you a gruesome fate at the bazaar-- you, who knows not my real name, face nor gender-- what would you know about me?”

 

Morisuke circled Lev, like a predator would his prey. If even the knowing of what Morisuke was would not send Lev home and keep him away from the magical where he did not belong, then Morisuke had no choice but to scare him off. For both their sakes-- Lev would be safer in the human realm, and Morisuke… Morisuke was far too old for human flings (nor would he ever be able to manage loving and losing-- not again; for human lives were nothing but smoke, so quick to disappear).

 

Lev drew in a breath to reply--

 

But Morisuke did not let him. “Look around you, mortal. You think I would not harm you?” He extinguished the will ‘o wisps he’d created and redirected all his magic into crafting around them illusion upon illusion of nightmares and horrors. “I could drive you mad in a minute that I stretch to feel like an eternity. I could make you see blood from your own fingers, watch death and decay devour all you love-- I could paint your every worst fear into a reality only you would see,” Morisuke thundered, and Lev’s whole body trembled at it, his gaze flitting about in search of somewhere safe to look. He was scared. Terrified even. Morisuke could feel it in his aura. 

 

Good. He should be scared. He should just go home, be safe. Never return. (And if Morisuke felt a twinge of sadness at never seeing his too-brilliant, oblivious smile, or a pang of guilt at frightening him so, well… no one needed to know but the fox himself.)

 

“Run, mortal,” he growled, releasing his magic. The forest reappeared, and Lev stumbled to his knees, breathing harsh as if just processing all those terrible images had taken all his energy. It probably had-- Morisuke had poured all the reserves of his power into them, after all. “Leave. I do not harm you now, but my heart may not always be so forgiving. You have trespassed on my land, my home, this night. I could do away with you as easily as I could snap a twig in half, and none would blame me. Do not test me, fool.”

 

Morisuke glowered at Lev’s hunched over figure for a second longer, and then he turned around, stalking towards his burrow. “You will find the flames as they were earlier. They will lead you back to the road and to your herb. But if you come looking for me again, trust that you will not get away so lightly.”

 

He had just passed through the entrance when Lev called out, “You said ‘could’.”

 

Morisuke froze where he was. “What was that, human?” 

 

He tried to make it sound threatening, but it didn't seem to work, because Lev repeated, “You said ‘could’. Not ‘would’. You  _ could  _ drive me mad. But you wouldn't.” He paused, and Morisuke could hear the sounds of him getting to his feet: the crunch of the dry leaves beneath his feet, the soft squelch of damp earth. “Would you?”

 

Morisuke did not look at him. “That isn't much of a distinction,” he noted, though he did not move deeper into his home. “You would stake your life on so small a difference in words?”

 

“Yes,” Lev said, without hesitation. “If you wanted to kill me or to hurt me, Lady Kaede… would you not have done so already? It's been four evenings now, and you were prepared to let me go without incident until I saw you for what you were.”

 

“Then you know you were gravely mistaken to have squandered such an opportunity. And my name is not Kaede. The Lady Kaede is but my mask for you. This form is myself. I have a different name.”

 

“Then tell it to me, that I might call you by it.”

 

“I will not.” Morisuke once again spun to face Lev, and he snarled up at the mortal. “Do you think I am brainless? I will not give, tell, nor speak my name for you. Names have power-- did I not teach you this at our first meeting?”

 

Lev tilted his head. “So why haven't you used mine?”

 

There was a beat of silence as Morisuke reeled. He knew Morisuke had his name? Kenma must have told him about Kuroo’s slip… that made sense, in retrospect. It was only common courtesy to let someone know a fae creature had power over them because of a decision not their own, but…

 

It stung, a little, that Kenma thought Lev would need a warning about Morisuke.

 

“It is a very weak hold I have over you, human. I did not get the name straight from you, and I have but a portion,” Morisuke said, swatting at the air with his tails as if in dismissal. “It is almost worthless. The fact that Kenma took measures to warn you anyway should be a sign to you, half-wit, of what I can do.”

 

“Warn me? Kenma didn't warn me about anything,” Lev responded, sounding honestly bewildered. “He  _ asked _ me if he could give it to you.”

 

_ Kenma you sly bastard,  _ Morisuke thought. When had Kenma even found time to ask? Had he asked before Kuroo had brought it up, somehow? Or…

 

The details were unimportant. The fact of it is that Morisuke knowing Lev’s name… it had been intentional, on more than just Kuroo’s part.

 

As Morisuke struggled to come to terms with this, Lev continued, “And if that is so, I can give it to you. I know how.”

 

Morisuke did not want this. He didn't! But before he could even protest, Lev was saying, in a voice clear and cutting as the winter wind: “My name is Haiba Lev,” and holding out his hand as if in offering. Morisuke’s eyes widened. A complete and literal handing over of his name-- it gave Morisuke so much control over him, if he only took his hand.

 

Lev smiled at him.

 

“I…” Morisuke was at a loss. If he took it, Lev would want him to use it, and he refused. His  _ magic _ would want him to use it-- to summon Lev when the nights got lonely, to call on him to satisfy his baser desires. But if he didn't, didn't that just prove Lev’s point? Make him feel more secure? And then Lev wouldn't leave, and he had to.

 

He had to.

 

“Fine,” he grunted. He laid his tails in Lev’s hand (he downright refused to lay his paw in it like some dog performing a trick). “But just so that I do not owe you, I will tell you mine. It is Yaku Morisuke. Remember it; I will not tell it to you again.”

 

Lev’s answering grin was too bright to look at, so Morisuke faced away, withdrawing his tails and heading once more into his burrow. “Go home, Haiba Lev,” Morisuke said, letting his magic wrap around the name, around the man himself, and urge him to do as instructed. “You are no longer welcome here.”

 

But Lev, as always, resisted the pull of Morisuke’s power. Morisuke could sense the struggle he was putting up, that this time, at least, Lev could not do it as easily as blinking was a relief; he had a limit after all, it seemed-- but it was still more than he should have been able to do. “Will you grant me a wish, if I leave?”

 

The audacity of this man left Morisuke stunned. A wish? “To save your own life? Why should I do that?” he asked, incredulous. 

 

Lev shrugged. “I don't know,” he said, and this, Morisuke believed. “But will you?”

 

Morisuke should have said no. What had Lev done to earn a boon? All he had done was be stubborn beyond comprehension, reckless beyond understanding. But Morisuke was weary and if he would never see Lev again, then fine, he could live knowing he had at least granted a blessing on this foolish mortal. “Very well,” he sighed, laying down to rest before the entrance of his home. “But only a small one, mind you.”

 

“Come with me.”

 

“ _ What _ ?” Morisuke stared. And stared. And stared. “Do you know what you are asking, mortal? I am a kitsune, three centuries old and far different from you than you can imagine. And you ask me to go with you?” 

 

Lev nodded.

 

“For what reason? You’ve known me but a few days, and only for a handful of hours each time. Surely you don't think that's love?”

 

Lev tilted his head to one side, considering. “Of course not. But I like your company. You're smart, kind, interesting. And if I must never return, I should like to have a way to see you still.” He met Morisuke’s gaze levelly, and Morisuke could see in his eyes all that he hoped would come of it, and how much he meant his words. Morisuke was loathe to admit it, but he was certain the same hopes were mirrored in his own eyes.

 

Morisuke shook his head. “You are an imbecile, if you think I could do that. I don't belong to your world, mortal. Choose another wish.”

 

“I have none,” Lev said, and Morisuke sighed yet again, a reprimand rising to his tongue-- “And if that is the problem, we can go elsewhere. I have no family waiting for my return-- my sister married and moved out many years ago. I would be quite happy anywhere, were I with you, I think.” He smiled. “So please?”

 

Morisuke knew he would regret this, but how could he resist such an honest plea? Lev would willingly leave behind all that he knew, for a chance to know Morisuke instead? It was pure folly, but Lev was just so  _ genuine _ , and if even Kenma and Kuroo thought this could work… maybe… maybe it could.

 

Morisuke changed forms, until he stood before Lev as Kaede. “I suppose your life is short enough that I could spend what is left of it with you. My home will last that long without me, certainly,” he said, as if the mere thought of spending a lifetime with Lev, this stupid, stupid man, didn't send his heart into a frenzy.

 

For some reason, that garnered a frown from the mortal. Morisuke raised an eyebrow. “Do you not want this after all?” he asked.

 

“No!” Lev blurted. “I mean… of course I want it, but… why have you taken this shape again?”

 

“Is it not what you wanted?” Morisuke was confused. Was this not the shape that had drawn Lev in, that had enraptured him so?

 

“I just want you,” Lev replied easily, “in whatever form is most comfortable.” As what he said sunk in, he flushed, glancing away from Morisuke in embarrassment. “It’s true I found this form… well… beautiful, as you intended, I'm sure. But it was our conversation just last night that I value far more. I would not ask you to wear your mask all the time, simply for my benefit.”

 

Morisuke thought he would never be able to properly predict what this mortal would do. Every time Morisuke thought he understood him… Lev went and did something like this-- so  _ him  _ in its essence, but at the same time, nothing at all like Morisuke thought he would be.

 

“I cannot go without a mask entirely,” Morisuke said. “I am a three-tailed fox; your kind would not be able to accept me. They would hurt me, and you too, for association with me. But…” He trailed off, shifting forms into that human form he usually assumed when helping Kuroo, or making purchases at the bazaar. “This is the one I usually prefer.”

 

Lev blinked at him. And then he grinned. “You’re much smaller as a man, Yaku-san!” he said, laughing. 

 

Morisuke huffed. “Be quiet human! I could still destroy you in battle.”

 

Lev did his best to smother his mirth, but Morisuke could see it twinkling in his evergreen eyes, twitching at the corners of his mouth. He couldn't find it in him to truly make Lev stop laughing. If anything, he wanted to hear him laugh more. “Shall we go, Yaku-san?” he asked, after a moment.

 

And so they did.

 

/////

 

No one knows what happened to them after-- where they went or what they did, whether they did fall in love, or fell out instead. Some say they didn't even exist at all-- that a bard simply spun the tale to gain fame and fortune.

 

But that is none of our concern. All that matters is this: Morisuke and Lev… that was their version of a happily ever after. 

 

And maybe one day, you will find your own too.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr and twitter @ theauthorish
> 
> Come talk to me about anything! ♡♡♡


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